You Were Meant For Me
by exterminatecake
Summary: Amy has never felt alone more than those few weeks after the God Complex. Even years after, when she has a modeling job and her own perfume, she still misses him. So what happens when she sees him? Eleven/Amy, a bit of canon breaking. Used to be a oneshot
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Just had this idea while in the shower, of all places. Eleven/Amy oneshot, set a week or so after The God Complex. Based on the song You Were Meant For Me by Jewel.**

_Beebeebeebeebee-_

I groan and fumble for the off button, blearily peering out through my eyelashes, half-expecting to be in that ridiculous bunk bed again-

6:00 AM.

Home.

Or rather, my new home.

The months before feel like dreams, half-forgotten, fantastic, wonderful, superlative dreams. So far away, and yet they only feel like yesterday…

I stumble through the house, rummage through the fridge. Rory probably left… what, half an hour ago?

He never bothers to get me up anymore. And why should he? I'll just end up going back to sleep anyway. Hoping to dream of him again…

I shake my head and get out a carton of eggs, some pancake mix, maple syrup, everything I want for breakfast.

Well, everything but him.

I sigh and break the eggs into a frying pan, almost grinning as I see that they make a smiley face. I do have to give him props for this place. Everything I could ever want. Lovely shower, brand-new appliances, it's even already furnished. Not to mention our new car that Rory seems to like better than me now. I don't even know how he did it.

Even the door is the most gorgeous, deep blue… Blue like the ocean, the feathers on a peacock, the TARDIS…

I reach over the stove and flip a pancake, lost in my thoughts.

* * *

><p>I step out of the shower, rubbing my hair with the towel. Blow-dry, brush, style. Get dressed. I carefully wipe the spots off the mirrors and step back.<p>

I remember how oftentimes, after I took a shower, he would take me aside and tell me, with the most serious face possible, that leaving towels on the floor was _not_ cool.

I smile and hang the towel up.

* * *

><p>The door closes behind me. I almost leave the keys in the lock again, just wondering what the point of it all it. Then I shake my head.<p>

_Now Amy,_ I tell myself, _whatever happened to that new positive outlook you told yourself you'd get? Besides… You may as well forget him._

I cough, hiding the tears that were gathering in my eyes, from who, I don't know. Maybe from myself.

* * *

><p>As I get home from my shopping, I wonder if maybe calling my mother would cheer me up. I haven't talked to her in months, after all.<p>

It's still rather novel, having a mother, despite kind of having her my whole life. Because there's this part of me that remembers how I didn't have her for most of my life. Even though I did.

I dial her number.

Voicemail.

I end up confessing my troubles to a cup of coffee, instead.

It doesn't seem very interested in talking.

Maybe a movie would help… I go over to the TV, turn it on, pick a movie at random.

It turns out to be a lovely romance, with a happy ending where everyone gets together.

You'd think that would make me happy, right? My life just doesn't seem to work like that, though.

Instead, it just made me miss him.

* * *

><p>I spit into the sink, already planning to simply tell Rory I'm tired tonight. I rinse my toothbrush off, place it in the toothbrush-holder, then make sure to flick the light-switch on the way out.<p>

I know how you hate it when I leave lights on.

I take a deep breath, look around my room. Lie down next to Rory. He already fell asleep. No need for excuses today.

I slip beneath the covers, dreading the night. I always feel the most empty during these times, the times when it's dark and no-one is around. I only feel half-alive ever since you left, but these times are the worst… I feel mostly dead at night.

I tell myself it will be okay. I just shouldn't think tonight.

I turn over and close my eyes, hoping to dream of him.

The Doctor. My wonderful Doctor.

"_Dreams last for so long_

_Ever after you're gone."_

**So... How about you click on that there blue link at the bottom of the screen? The one that says "review?" Flames are cool, too. They're pretty sweet fuel for my flamethrower.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Why do people have to give me ideas? Seriously. Now this is going to be a full-length Eleven/Amy story, with canon-changing events. Such as this chapter. **

Rory smiles at me, takes my hand. "I can't believe you're getting a modeling job. Quite the lucky break, right?"

I smile dimly at him. "Very lucky."

They want me to model for a few of the nicer catalogues. If I get famous, they might even let me get my own perfume…

It's the closest I can get to that thrill, that wonderful feeling of being on top of the world, that feeling I got when I was with the Doctor.

My raggedy Doctor…

* * *

><p>My agent smiles at me from across the desk. "So, they are going to offer you a contract where you can model for your own perfume! Isn't that a lucky turn of events?"<p>

I smile and nod, try to look professional. Now I have to name the perfume, think of a tagline, think of a scent…

Oh.

If that doesn't get his attention… Well, then, he may as well have given up on me.

I shake myself out of my reverie. "Perfect!" my agent is saying-or rather, yelling. "Absolutely wonderful! Original!"

Did I really say that idea aloud?

* * *

><p>"Excuse me?"<p>

I turn around, smile at the little girl.

"Can I get your autograph?"

"Of course!" I bend down, sign a piece of paper in her hand. "I like your headband."

"Thank you," she grins at me, her eyes wide. The little girl runs off, goes to jump excitedly around her mother, chattering at a mile a minute.

As I smile and look up, I see a familiar bow tie disappear around a clothing rack. _No… It couldn't be… could it?_

I stealthily walk over, ignoring Rory's protests that "the men's clothing is over here!" I carefully look and there he is.

My Doctor. My beautiful, mad, wonderful, impossible, raggedy Doctor.

I watch as he looks at the billboard with my face on it. My perfume.

Petrichor.

For the girl who's tired of waiting.

I can tell he gets it.

Then he turns around-

our eyes meet-

he runs.

Literally dashes off.

Without thinking, I dash after him. Reflex by now. If he's running, you run with him. Despite the fact that oftentimes, he's running towards the monsters.

Maybe there are monsters here.

I skid to a stop in front of someone.

Craig.

Craig!

With a baby!

"Amy!" He yelps. "Wh-why are _you_ here? Did you and the Doctor get separated again?"

"You could say that," I sigh, then wrinkle my nose. "Did you know he needs his nappy changed?"

Craig's face changes into a rather interesting expression of bewilderment. "Who… The Doctor?"

"What? No, your baby!" I laugh at him. The Doctor, wearing a nappy!

Although I wouldn't put it past him.

_No, Amelia_ I tell myself. _Don't go there._

"Of course. Even you know more about my baby than I do."

"Hullo, Craig! Listen, the Cybermen are… Oh."

I turn around, laugh delightedly at the sight that awaits me.

My Doctor is back.

"Hello, Doctor."

"… Hello, Pond."

"Don't think you can run off this time. Now… What's this about Cybermen?"

Just like old times.

**AN: Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Rory! Amy has, though... haha... I'm so evil...**

**Review and I shall keep my evil hellhounds of doom at bay for another week or so!**


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